


you're a sight to see, kinda something like me

by farplanes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Barebacking, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Coach Katsuki Yuuri, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Schmoop, Skater Victor Nikiforov, Top Katsuki Yuuri, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farplanes/pseuds/farplanes
Summary: “Let’s have a peaceful night in instead,” Yuuri lies. Viktor reaches down to arrange Yuuri’s hands more amenably around his body and bats a pair of obscenely thick eyelashes down at his coach.“That sounds so boring, lapochka,” he whines, placing his hands over Yuuri’s and encouraging him to squeeze, “Wouldn’t you rather have an eventful night in? I deserve some fun, after all.”





	you're a sight to see, kinda something like me

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't planned to write anything like this when I sat down last weekend to work on a birthday celebration fic for Viktor. Alas, the heart wants what the heart wants. 
> 
> Title from "Ego" by Beyonce. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Yuuri feels exhaustion overtake his body as soon as he opens the hotel room door. The pressure starts behind his eyes and slowly makes its way through the entirety of his head, down toward his fingers. He has to force himself to walk a handful of steps toward the closest mattress before his knees buckle. 

Behind him Viktor lets out a long, dramatic sigh—made all the more dramatic by the gold medal resting proudly against his chest. He’s on the budding cusp of twenty one years old, already a world champion, and the guaranteed cause of Yuuri’s death. 

“But Yuuuuuri. You promised we could celebrate tonight.”

“Ah,” Yuuri starts, kicking off his shoes, “Did I do such a thing?”

Viktor pouts, making his way toward the bed where Yuuri’s sitting. Yuuri can see the considering look in his eyes, the way he calculates how best to approach his coach in this worn-out, sleepy state, while still getting exactly what he wants.

It’s a dangerous look.

“Hmm,” Viktor hums. He stops a few inches away from Yuuri, expectant.

Honestly, Yuuri should be used to how suggestible he is to Viktor’s will by now. Viktor doesn’t have to say a word, and Yuuri knows just want he’s asking for. Yuuri is helpless to stop himself from planting his hand on either side of Viktor’s hips and pulling him closer.

“Let’s have a peaceful night in instead,” Yuuri lies. Viktor reaches down to arrange Yuuri’s hands more amenably around his body (that is, to fit a palm over the plump curve of each butt cheek) and bats a pair of obscenely thick eyelashes down at his coach.

“That sounds so boring, _lapochka_ ,” he whines, placing his hands over Yuuri’s and encouraging him to squeeze, “Wouldn’t you rather have an _eventful_ night in? I deserve some fun, after all.”

Yuuri keeps quiet and allows himself a moment to appreciate the fullness of flesh beneath his fingers—how the muscles of Viktor’s ass barely yield to him despite his best efforts to dig in. Viktor’s body is so young and powerful. Yuuri is hyperaware of how warm Viktor is, freshly triumphant from competition and vibrating with the need to _do_ something. Viktor is all but pressed up against Yuuri’s torso. He can smell a fading bit of body spray on Viktor’s warmup jacket, and the earthy, musky scent of sweat. 

Yuuri licks his lips. Viktor deserves something, alright.

“What would you like to do then, Vitya?”

Viktor draws a hand through Yuuri’s hair, playing with the short strands along the outer ridge of Yuuri ear. There’s a faux-thoughtful purse to his lips as his thumb presses into the tender underside of Yuuri’s jaw.

Yuuri doesn’t wait for an answer. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Viktor’s stomach. The gold medal barely scrapes the top of his head. God, but Viktor smells _good_.

Because he can be as cruel as he is beautiful, Viktor starts to pull away. Yuuri is left bereft for a fraction of a moment before he notices the look in his eyes. 

Yuuri watches with anticipation as Viktor leans down to begin undoing his tie, pulling at one end of the fabric until it’s painfully taut around Yuuri’s neck. It makes Yuuri’s toes curl for one heart-stopping second before the tension eases and the tie drops silently onto the bedsheets. Viktor’s fingers do quick work on the button over Yuuri’s Adam’s apple, then the second, third, fourth, all the way down until Yuuri’s button-up is loose around his midsection, his white undershirt exposed. 

Viktor frowns. 

“This pesky thing, always in the way.” He slips his hands under Yuuri’s open shirt to rub impatient fingers up and down along Yuuri’s ribs, catching pointedly on the cotton materiel that acts as a barrier between him and Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. 

“I’ve got to wear the undershirt, Vitya. Otherwise I’ll cause a scandal at the venue—which happens to be a rink filled with ice, if you’ll remember.”

Viktor’s eyes flash with a sudden fire that spells all manner of ruin for Yuuri. “Oh, you mean, because these will be so easy to see, hmm?” He brushes his hands up, over Yuuri’s chest, and swipes the edge of his thumbs over each nipple. 

Yuuri cries out gently, electricity darting throughout his body at the touch. 

Viktor’s hums and starts lowering himself until he’s on his knees between Yuuri’s legs, head level with Yuuri’s chin. 

“You should relax, _lapochka_. Aren’t you tired?” Those devious thumbs continue swiping across the tips of Yuuri’s nipples, pausing only to change course and draw light circles around them. Yuuri turns a fetching shade of red as he feels his body start to tremble. Despite himself, his chest sways forward, seeking out more of Viktor’s touch. 

“Vitya…”

“Mm-hmm. It’s nice, yes?” 

Yuuri bites his lower lip.“This is supposed to be for you.”

Viktor meets his eyes and shifts closer. 

“It is. I want to make my coach feel good. Won’t you let me, pleeease?”

Yuuri laughs. He lets his legs do the talking for him, folding around Viktor’s body and scooping him closer until his ankles are crossed above Viktor’s ass. 

Viktor sighs his contentment. He draws a finger down Yuuri’s cheek, then lifts the offending undershirt until its rucked up beneath Yuuri’s armpits, leaving his nipples exposed to the air. Viktor’s eyelashes fan across his cheeks as he surveys his canvas. The warm breath ghosting over his skin makes Yuuri’s blood thrum with want.

The first kiss that Viktor drops to the center of his chest is soft, adoring. It leaves Yuuri feeling a bit weak at the knees. Then Viktor opens his mouth and draws Yuuri’s left nipple between his lips. Yuuri lets himself moan, unselfconscious, as he melts against the heat of Viktor’s mouth. He feels a tongue laving worshipfully over the peak of his nipple, then a suckling motion accompanied by lewd, wet noises.

He can’t help it—he rolls his hips against Viktor’s body, clamping the man tightly between his thighs to maximize friction. Viktor, ever the opportunist, hums with delightand wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist, encouraging him to move. His teeth worry at Yuuri’s nipple in careful, precise motions that send lightning bolts of electricity behind Yuuri’s eyes before leaning back to chastely kiss his abused skin. 

“Oh, _Yuuri_. You’re so lovely,” Viktor croons, “I just want to unwrap you and eat you up.”

Yuuri feels something warm churning in his stomach and can’t help the smile that takes over this face, endeared despite himself.

How in the world did he end up here, wrapped around this troublemaker’s finger, when only eight months ago he was ready to disappear into the obscurity of retirement? Sometimes Yuuri can’t believe the amount of favor he’s curried with Lady Luck. What a man as exquisite as Viktor is doing writhing between Yuuri’s thighs right now, Yuuri can’t begin to fathom.

Viktor takes his time sampling Yuuri’s body, working at one nipple until it turns a deep red, then promptly moving on to the next. It feels so good, it’s almost too much to take. Yuuri’s overcome with a buzzing feeling, as if Viktor’s cast a spell over him, turning him into a compliant plaything to be tasted and touched to Viktor’s liking. 

Yuuri’s so hypnotized that he hardly notices when Viktor begins stripping them both in earnest. His belt is pried open, his trousers unbuttoned and peeled off of his legs. It isn’t until Viktor leans up to take Yuuri’s glasses off of his face that Yuuri finally realizes he’s in nothing but his briefs. His protege, fully stripped save for the gold medal still draped around his neck, climbs onto Yuuri’s lap like it’s his rightful throne, kisses Yuuri plushly on the mouth, and bears down with all the confidence of a man who knows what belongs to him.

Yuuri can't argue with that.

He reaches up to grab Viktor by the jaw, coaxing those lips open wide to force his tongue inside. Viktor lets it happen with a happy moan. While he proceeds to suck on Yuuri’s tongue, Yuuri hooks his elbows underneath Viktor’s knees and lifts him up just enough to move them both further back onto the bed. Viktor rolls his hips onto Yuuri’s growing erection, and Yuuri sees stars.

“Mm, feels good,” Viktor moans up into the ceiling. Yuuri places a hand behind Viktor and uses a finger to trace a maddening line, up and down, from Viktor’s tailbone to where the two globes of his ass begin to part. Viktor suppresses a shiver and chides, “Don’t tease!” 

But he’s a hypocrite, because he immediately nestles Yuuri’s cock between his asscheeks and grinds. 

Yuuri's takes claim of Victor’s mouth again, holding onto those powerful hips for dear life. 

Eventually, Viktor’s impatience outweighs his proclivity for dirty foreplay. He shoves Yuuri onto his back and knee-walks down his body to start shoving Yuuri’s briefs off. 

“Why do you wear so many layers? Look at all the effort it takes to see your beautiful cock!”

Yuuri tugs playfully at Viktor’s ponytail, made unruly from the exertion of a gold medal performance (as well as debauching Yuuri’s person). What a cheeky brat.

And speaking of cheek…

Once Viktor has successfully tossed Yuuri’s underwear over his shoulder, Yuuri grabs him by hips again and kisses him on the stomach. 

“Vitya,” he starts, licking into the slight depression of his bellybutton, “You should ride my face.”

Viktor gasps. 

“Yes, please! Let’s do that, Yuuri!”

Yuuri ays himself back down onto the bed. Viktor swings his legs around until he’s facing away from Yuuri. It takes a moment of scrambling to get himself positioned over Yuuri’s head, but it’s well worth the view, as far as Yuuri’s concerned. 

First, Yuuri turns his head to bite into Viktor’s thigh. He smells and tastes like sweat, a masculine, salty flavor that gets Yuuri’s blood rushing south. Viktor can barely get a word out before Yuuri moves a bit further up and bites at the sensitive juncture where leg meets groin. 

Viktor hisses. 

“Ok, ok!” Yuuri laughs, kissing where he last bit, “Sorry. But you're nice to gnaw on.”

“Is that meant to flatter me?” Yuuri can’t see his face, but he knows exactly the pout that Victor’s sporting. 

“Ahh, let your coach have some fun. I'm only joking.” 

Viktor hums, disbelieving, but wiggles his ass to bring Yuuri’s attention back to more important matters. Yuuri’s more than happy to oblige.

He reaches up and palms Viktor’s cheeks apart to reveal the pink, tight furl of his hole. Yuuri’s had his mouth on it now more times than he can count, but every instance feels like the first. It’s something about how desperately Viktor moves, how easily his body lets Yuuri inside. It's addicting. 

He can feel Viktor vibrating with anticipation as he sinks his ass further down onto Yuuri’s face. Yuuri purses his lips to kiss where Viktor wants it most, then traces the delicate skin with the tip of his tongue, meaning for it to leave Viktor wanting. Viktor doesn’t disappoint, whining like he wants to pull back but can’t bear for it to stop. Yuuri slowly drags the flat of his tongue over Viktor’s hole. He has to clamp his elbows tightly onto the backs of Viktor’s thighs to keep the man from moving away. Viktor keens like an weakened animal, reaching behind to spread himself wider for Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri uses his thumbs to open Viktor up. He takes a moment to admire the pretty picture in front of him—thick meaty ass, wet hole—then he fits his tongue into the space between and curls it deep inside.

“ _Ah_!” Viktor cries. His hips are moving. He takes on a shameless, punishing pace, rubbing his balls onto Yuuri’s chin and pressing so much of his weight down that Yuuri starts to feel dizzy from the oxygen deprivation. 

He wants to die like this.

After a heavenly five minutes of eating him out, Yuuri has to guide Viktor back onto his knees for a breather. Viktor moves for him easily, resting his forearms over Yuuri’s legs.

Unfortunately, this causes the medal to land right on top of Yuuri’s dick. 

“Shit!” He squawks, shocked by the cold. Viktor pulls it away quickly, leaning down to place an apology kiss onto Yuuri’s shaft.

“The medal says, ‘A+!’ Good performance!” 

Yuuri covers his face with his hands. “Oh my god.” 

Viktor giggles himself onto his side with a hand tenderly cradling Yuuri’s cock. He drags his knee up and down against Yuuri’s torso, luxuriating in all of the skin at his disposal.

Alright, maybe the mood wasn’t ruined after all. 

Although Yuuri’s aware that twenty-seven is hardly ‘old’ by most standards, he’s certainly not the same spring chicken he used to be. There’s some extra heft around his hips now, an unfamiliar softness in his muscles—he looks exactly like a professional athlete recently departed from his prime. And he’s not self-conscious about it, per say… but it’s nice to have a beautiful young thing draped all over him now, groping at him like he’s too sexy to resist. 

“What else would his highness like for tonight?” Yuuri teases. 

Viktor’s makes eye contact. His fingers tighten around Yuuri’s shaft.

“This dick,” he answers without ceremony.

Yuuri snorts.

Viktor rolls away to dig through the duffle bag left open at the side of the bed. When he comes back, he throws a packet of lube at Yuuri’s hip.

Yuuri ignores the wrapper for a second and outstretches his arms. “Hey, come here.” Viktor smiles, doing as he’s bid. He curls into Yuuri’s chest and wraps his himself around Yuuri like an octopus. Even though their dicks bump against each other, it hardly registers. Yuuri buries his nose into Viktor’s hair and breathes.

“Love you,” he sighs. Viktor clings even tighter.

“Love you too. Love you the most.”

Yuuri kisses the side of his face. He pats at the sheets next to him, looking for the lube packet. When he finds it, he gathers Viktor is one of his arms and flips them around so that Viktor’s lying underneath him. His eyes sweep up, from a pair of bruised feet to the top of a bright silver head. Lord, how is it possible to feel so in love and so turned on at the same time? 

Viktor pulls him down into a kiss, wrapping his legs around Yuuri’s waist. “Open me up,” he demands.

“Say please, maybe?” He rips the packet open anyway and starts rubbing it between his fingers. “Aren’t you feeling open enough? You nearly suffocated me earlier, you know.”

Yuuri feels a heel digging into his back. “Good. You’re a cruel coach who’s mean to your student.”

He laughs and kisses Viktor’s neck, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth. By the time he starts rubbing a forefinger into Viktor’s hole, the man is tilting his chin up sweetly for more kisses. Yuuri complies. Viktor’s lips are so very soft—plush and made to be revered. It would be paradise to kiss these lips forever, Yuuri thinks indulgently. 

Viktor must sense his flowery thoughts because he cradles the back of Yuuri’s head and kisses him harder.

Yuuri twists two fingers inside of Viktor, massaging him open. Viktor’s body is so easy for him, Yuuri hardly has to work for it. It doesn’t take long at all to move on to three. He’s trying to take his time, but Viktor clenches down when Yuuri doesn’t immediately give him the cock he wants. He doesn’t even ask—he just places a proprietary hand around Yuuri’s dick the way he’d been doing all night, and rubs a thumb around the head to spread around Yuuri’s pre-come. It feels stupid good. He then slaps Yuuri’s hand away and shifts a little bit to angle Yuuri’s cock directly against his hole. “Go, go!” he whines.

Well alright. Yuuri puts his hands under Viktor’s ass to prop him up. 

The first press of his cock inside is an insistent mantra of _hot hot hot!_ Viktor’s body feels like it’s on fire, and Yuuri wants to follow that heat like a lifeline. Slowly, the tip pops in, then the rest of his shaft, until he’s completely sheathed inside. Viktor trembles in his arms.

“Does it feel ok?” Yuuri asks. He’s shaking, too.

“Mmm. Feels _amaaaazing_ ,” Viktor clenches around the girth of his cock. “Fuck me, please.”

It makes Yuuri smile—so polite all of a sudden? He twists his hips and thrusts, trying to get a feel of how he should angle himself. His dick feels so good inside Viktor, nearly melting away with his body heat. After a second, he nudges at a spongey bundle of nerves and— _jackpot_ —Viktor cries out.

“ _Yes_! Right there, more _more_!”

Yuuri gives him more.

He pulls out a few inches and pushes back in firmly. Once, twice, over and over again. While he’s thrusting, he grips at one of Viktor’s legs and guides it over his shoulder. This has the fantastic side effect of tilting Viktor’s hips upward, making the slide all the more satisfying. He digs his palms into Viktor’s sides and really starts fucking him. There’s a filthy sort of squelching sound going on between their bodies now. Viktor desperately grabs at one of Yuuri’s hands and stuffs three fingers into his mouth, sucking tightly. His cheeks are flushed red, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes from how much he’s loving it all. He pushes Yuuri’s fingers hard against his pallet, daring them to force their way down his throat. Yuuri can feel him wet and warm from the tip of his dick to the ends of his fingers. 

“Oh _fuck_ , Vitya.” He’s genuinely afraid he might pass out.

After a few minutes, Viktor finally pulls away from his fingers and pleads, “Make me come, I want it so bad, _make me come_ —”

Yuuri puts his weight on his knees and folds Viktor in half. He swings the other leg onto his shoulder, braces himself over Viktor’s body, and plows down. Viktor’s breath catches in his throat as Yuuri moves, using every bit of strength he has left to give Viktor his dick exactly the way Viktor needs it. He plunges himself in, balls-deep, and grinds the pleasure out with all of his body weight and a carefully angled undulation of the hips. They’ve both broken out into a sweat, and the animal filthiness of it makes Yuuri want to growl.

Eventually, riding the edge feels too torturous to bear. He reaches down for Viktor’s cock—flushed as pretty a pink as his mouth—and pumps at it. Viktor’s foreskin folds down, revealing just enough for Yuuri to dig the pad of his thumb against the frenulum. He rubs insistent circles into it, bears down into Viktor again. Hits inside him _just_ so.

“That’s it, just like that. _Take me in_.”

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor wails. His hands scrabble helplessly around Yuuri’s back, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to break skin. The sharp pain only intensifies the feeling of Viktor’s body suddenly contracting around him, flesh hungrily devouring flesh. Something warm splashes onto his fist and Yuuri thinks, _oh,_ Viktor came—before his own body turns into a live-wire.

Orgasm punches him straight in the belly. He turns concave and starts chasing his pleasure with several ruthless thrusts of his cock. Viktor cries out for him and moves until their hips match a rhythm. For a second, nothing else exists on earth other than Viktor. Just him, his man, and the perfection of their bodies colliding.

Yeah, nevermind— _this_ is how he wants to die.

The orgasm eventually tapers off, but Yuuri feels so deeply sated he can barely keep upright. He collapses on top of Viktor and lets his entire torso turn limp. 

He has to catch his breath for a few solid minutes, coming back into his mind in slow increments. First, he notices Viktor’s medal pressing against his chest. Then, the strands of Viktor’s hair clinging to his face. Finally, the sticky ejaculate slowly seeping its way out of Viktor’s ass and all over Yuuri’s dick, cooling down the longer their bodies remain immobile.

He looks up to see Viktor staring back at him.

God, he’s beautiful.

“How was that?” Yuuri asks him shyly, finding his right hand between the tangle of their bodies. He brings Viktor’s knuckles to his lips and kisses his engagement ring, making sure to keep Viktor’s gaze.

Viktor’s eyes are doe-wide. “I love you,” he says in lieu of an answer. He looks like he’s about to float off into the atmosphere.

“I love you, too,” he says back. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

Viktor’s cheekbones bloom red. Yuuri wraps his arms around him and kisses the apples of his cheeks. Viktor bats his pretty lashes and arches up right afterwards to kiss Yuuri’s cupid’s bow.

 _Wow_ , Yuuri thinks, heart fluttering.

“Congratulations, Vitya,” he presses a hand to Viktor’s medal. “I’m proud of you, you know? Everyday, you make me so proud.”

Viktor tucks himself under Yuuri’s chin to collect on his customary post-coital cuddles. Yuuri can’t see his face, but he knows that Viktor must be smiling—his favorite smile, the one that’s shaped like a heart and makes Viktor’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” he breathes, “It’s all thanks to you.” He pauses for a second, then whispers, “You mean _everything_ to me.”

Yuuri presses a kiss to his lover’s forehead. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how easily one person can turn your life upside down and make a home inside of you.

He wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
